


Somewhere Between Silence and Sleep

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Body Part Kinks, Crying, Enemas, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, M/M, Orgy, Tentacles, Threesome, Vulnerability, Watersports, overwhelming emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a sex dream. Tony and Bruce try to help out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Between Silence and Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to aurimae, my wonderful beta, and to thingswithwings for giving me all the headcanon I ever needed to write fic in this fandom. This fic would probably not exist without her.
> 
> Technically set in the same universe as [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/531515).

Something slick and warm and alien is wrapped around Steve's arms, his legs, his stomach. Long, endless, constantly moving tentacles are holding him up, holding him apart, keeping him still while he's suspended in midair. He’s naked; it feels like the tentacles are touching every inch of his skin. His mouth is open, lips stretched around a tentacle that tastes like nothing, soft, slick flesh. Sticky alien fluid flows down his throat, staining his lips and his nose.

His arms are held together, above his head. His legs are held apart, each with a tentacle wrapped around it several times. All of Steve's strength isn't enough to move a single muscle against the restraints. There's a tentacle sliding in and out of his ass, fucking him with slow, methodic thrusts. It feels enormous, like it's splitting Steve open, but at the same time the slickness makes it impossible to resist each thrust. Steve’s cock is hard and aching, Steve can feel the pre-come oozing all over his own stomach. A smaller tentacle slides down his stomach, past his cock and down to his testicles. Steve cries out as it wraps itself around them, constricting and massaging, sliding up and down in an endless loop--

Steve wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed. The first thing he notices is the afternoon sun, pouring in through the large windows of... Tony's bedroom. Steve doesn’t remember how he ended up here last night. Or earlier that day. Whenever they got back from fighting those weaponized critters in downtown Chicago.

The next thing Steve notices is Bruce, who is lying next to him, stirring in his sleep. Now Steve remembers. This isn’t really Tony’s bedroom. This is one of Tony’s favorite guestrooms, which he’s had decorated to look like his bedroom for the occasions when he doesn’t feel like taking the elevator all the way to the penthouse. Or at least, that’s what Steve assumes. 

Everything makes a bit more sense now. This room is closest to the elevator and Steve’s room is down the hall. Clearly he failed to make it that far last night. Or rather, this morning. 

"What's wrong?" Bruce says, and Tony, who, Steve suddenly realizes, is sleeping covered in blankets next to Bruce, makes a groggy sound of protest at the noise.

"Nothing," Steve says. "Just… I had a dream."

Bruce squints, as if working extra hard to figure out Steve's tone. "Good dream or bad dream?"

"Difficult to say," Steve says, taking a deep breath.

"Sex dream," Tony announces, without even opening his eyes.

Bruce takes a moment to ponder this, clearly still struggling to wake up. Steve suddenly feels guilty for waking everyone up. He remembers the last time Bruce spent a day being the Hulk and how he basically spent the next twelve hours passed out on a mattress, dead to the world. 

"Sex dream?" Bruce says, squinting at Steve again.

"Yeah." Steve sighs.

*

Later, he tells them everything. Instead of going back to sleep Tony and Bruce shuffle around, shoving Steve between them, the two of them bracketing him on both sides. Tony wraps a tight fist around Steve's cock, jerks him off slowly with tight, thorough strokes, while Bruce puts a hand around Steve's throat, holds him down and squeezes when necessary, when the words coming out of Steve's mouth become too much.

Tony makes Steve go over the dream twice, while Steve pants and writhes and fists his hands in the sheets and pleads with Tony to let him come. Tony makes him elaborate on every detail, recount every sensation. And after they're finally done and Steve collapses in a boneless heap Tony kisses Steve’s cheek and darts out of the room, barely remembering to put on a pair of pants, dragging Bruce after him by the hand.

*

Days turn into weeks and Steve's dreams continue being what they usually are. Snippets of the past and the present intertwined, colors bleeding into each other, an endless procession of nonsensical moments Steve can hardly remember by the time he wakes. He used to have trouble sleeping, after they first dug him out of the ice, but now it feels like his body as well as his mind have finally recalibrated and the routine of being an Avenger helps give him a more human-like sleep schedule. Well, for certain values of human-like.

He jerks off thinking about his tentacle dream a few times. Sometimes it comes up when he’s having sex with Tony or Bruce or both of them. Steve never plans their encounters but more and more often he finds himself spending time with one of them, conversation morphing into laughter, morphing into sex. 

He blames the endless tentacle porn Tony starts flooding his inbox with for the second dream.

It starts out the same way as before. Steve wrapped up in an endless amount of warm, slick tentacles. Some holding his limbs, some fucking into his mouth and his ass. This time his balls are gripped in a wicked vice from the start; the tentacles stroke and release them, squeezing a little too tightly, making Steve ache. His cock is hard, solid and heavy lying untouched against his belly.

Steve closes his eyes against the darkness, trying to take deep breaths. The tentacle in his ass slides in as deep as it can go and stills, instead of pulling out. A moment later it starts pulsing and Steve can feel thick, hot fluids painting his insides. He tries to groan but the tentacle in his mouth prevents him from making any sound. The pulsing doesn't stop, it goes on and on pushing more and more liquid into Steve until he can feel some of it trickling out of him, sticky and warm down his thighs. He feels impossibly full in his throat, his chest. His stomach, especially feels bigger and fuller.

At first Steve thinks he’s imagining it but then more tentacles start caressing his stomach, sliding from his chest to his belly and back again, tracing the new shape of his belly. He's used to this body now, more than he was at the end of the war, before he woke up in the future. Part of it is Tony and Bruce, their hands and voices and eyes, like endless reflective surfaces, helping him learn and memorize every muscle, every smooth surface.

The point is, Steve knows his body, and even though the difference isn't huge he can feel how puffed out his stomach is, how bloated, instead of the taut, flat surface it he’s used to. It makes his cock impossibly harder, makes his balls contract and shoot bolts of electricity down his spine--

This time he wakes up alone, in his quarters.

*

"I have an idea," Tony says over the loudspeaker of Steve's phone. He's in Brazil signing the final documents for a green energy deal Pepper's been working on for months. Steve's lying next to Bruce in Bruce's room, the phone resting on the sheet between them. 

"Unfortunately my AI tentacle machine is still in the shop," Tony says and Bruce smiles to himself in a way that makes Steve think the words aren't just Tony being clever. "But how about we try something different?"

Steve doesn't mind different, he's used to different being the default in his life so far. But he isn't sure why Tony thinks he'd would find an enema remotely sexy.

Steve was a sickly kid and a sickly teenager, and in the 1930s, enemas were a far more common remedy than they are today, for a variety of common illnesses. Steve wouldn't call any of those memories arousing.

"If you don't want to do this, it's OK," Bruce says over dinner, sandwiches in his lab, the day before Tony is due to come back. "You can call it off any time."

Steve doesn't want to have this conversation again. Sometimes he gets tired of feeling like he has to prove he knows his own mind, over and over again. He never had any trouble standing up for himself when all it was likely to get him was a beating. He doesn't like Bruce or Tony treating him like he doesn't know how to say no.

"I'd like to give it a try," Steve says. "Tony's ideas work more often than not."

Bruce nods at that.

*

They do it in the bathroom in Steve's quarters. Bruce sets up the enema bag, fills it with the right mixture of cold and warm water, while Tony helps Steve set up.

Steve is lying on his side, naked, on a mat on the bathroom floor. Tony's sitting on his heels, behind Steve, lubing up the enema nozzle and petting the curves of Steve's ass. They'd agreed that Tony and Bruce could be present for the first part of the procedure, but they'd give Steve his privacy for the second. Steve's still not sure which part of this Tony thinks will blow Steve's mind.

After Tony slowly pushes in the nozzle, Bruce opens the valve on the bag of water. He remains standing, to have a better view of Steve and to be able to adjust the flow as necessary.

The water begins trickling into Steve and the sensation is… pretty familiar. He's happy not to be in a hospital bed while experiencing it, this time. Tony stays close, keeping his hands on Steve, checking in and asking Steve if he's OK, whether he wants to stop, whether there's any discomfort.

As the bag slowly empties, Steve begins to feel the weight of the water filling him. His body feels heavier, his limbs more awkward somehow, even though the liquid should only impact his stomach.

Tony's hands massage his shoulders, caress down Steve's chest, pause to press gently against Steve's nipples.

It feels a little odd, the water rushing into him while Bruce stands nearby looking like he wants to devour Steve like a meal and Tony's hands are a few minutes away from jerking Steve off. A little odd but… nice. Warm and safe and relaxing.

Tony's hands slide down to Steve's stomach when the water in the bag runs out. Bruce unhooks it from the tube and fills it again from the large container he's got perched on the bathroom sink.

"Do you feel this yet," Tony says, right in Steve's ear, as his hands caress Steve's belly. His thumb trace lazy circles around Steve's bellybutton. "You're starting to show."

It sends a jolt down Steve's spine. He shudders. He doesn't know why he didn't make the connection until now but of course, _of course_ Tony would think of this side effect.

Bruce is giving him a predatory smirk, something sharp and hungry that he never lets out around most people because the world already thinks he's dangerous enough. He hooks a full bag back up to the tube.

"Yeah, that's right," Tony says, hands still pressed against Steve's stomach, as the water begins to flow into him again. "We can tell it's growing. How big do you think it's going to get?"

Steve groans at that, biting his lip. He can feel his cock coming to life, suddenly taking interest in the proceedings.

Bruce smiles at him, holding the bag steady.

Steve already feels full, but the water keeps flowing, slower now than it did with the first bag. Idly he wonders if Bruce had ever had to administer any enemas while working as a doctor, whether Steve's new body means he can take more fluid than the average man.

"Look at how round you're getting, how big," Tony says, hands caressing up and down Steve's stomach. Steve whimpers, he can feel the pressure inside – not painful or uncomfortable but present, heavy and getting heavier, impossible to ignore.

"Bruce is barely giving you any water and something inside you is still making you grow," Tony says, quiet and calm, casual like he's down at the shop testing a new feature for the suit.

The water keeps flowing, torturously slow thanks to Bruce's tinkering with the valve. The pressure is slowly becoming unbearable, pressing on Steve's insides. Steve's cock is so hard it's practically aching.

"Just a tiny bit more," Tony says, kissing Steve's cheek, licking Steve's lips and claiming his mouth. His hands are still wrapped around Steve's stomach. "Just a little more and it'll all be in there," Tony says and Steve can feel his cock leaving wet smears on his own skin. Tony draws away, his eyes meeting Steve's. "Look down."

Steve does and oh, God, he wasn't prepared for this. His stomach looks bloated, round and soft, framed by Tony's hands. He wants to glance up at Bruce, at how much liquid is left in the bag, but he can't look away from his own belly.

But then he doesn't have to because Bruce is there, next to him, petting Steve's hair and caressing his stomach, his hands looking smaller next to Tony's. In the back of his mind Steve realizes the water's stopped, and he feels his body adjusting, as if re-forming itself around Steve's new shape.

The nozzle is still inside of him and he desperately wants it out but at the same time doesn't. It feels foreign and intrusive but he's afraid of what might happen if it's pulled out. He's not sure how his body would react.

"Can I take this out?" Tony says, a steadiness in his voice Steve clings to, as he gently tugs on the nozzle. His hands are gone from Steve's stomach but Bruce's take their place.

Steve nods, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

"Yeah, it's time for it to come out, isn't it," Tony says, his hands pulling it out in steady increments, letting Steve's body adjust to each minute change. "It's all inside now and you don't need this anymore."

Steve shudders, gasping when the nozzle comes out, letting out a whine through gritted teeth. "Shh," Bruce says, one of his hands sneaking down to touch the head of Steve's cock.

Steve mewls as the sensation washes over him. His body is his now, finally, no foreign objects inserted anywhere, and the feeling of fullness and heaviness is nearly overwhelming.

Bruce and Tony each have a hand on Steve's stomach, making him even more aware of each breath he takes. Tony's other hand is in Steve's hair and Bruce's is wrapped around the head of Steve's cock, teasing the most sensitive part of him and running his thumb across Steve's slit.

Steve feels enveloped, surrounded. Warm hands are touching him everywhere, making it impossible for him to be anywhere but here, in this body, feeling the mat under him and the fabric of Tony's pants against his back.

Bruce's hand reaches lower, grabs the base of Steve's cock and the sudden, sharp pressure is so overwhelming Steve howls and curls in on himself.

Bruce's hand vanishes instantly. "What, what's wrong? Are you OK?" Bruce's voice says in a rush and Steve can feel Tony go tense against his back. He swallows and opens his eyes, trying to push aside the intense feeling of pressure-pain right below his stomach.

"I… I really have to take a piss," he says, slowly, sounding wrecked and undone even to his own ears. "Ri-right now."

He can tell Tony and Bruce are having a silent conversation over his head.

"Do you want us to go, buddy?" Tony says an impossibly long second later. He's bent over Steve, looking into his eyes.

Steve swallows, struggling to get the words out. "Stay," he says, because it's all he can think of. He wants Tony and Bruce to stay, even though he has no idea what they can do about his problem. He should probably ask them to leave so he can just relieve himself on the floor, except whatever's about to happen he doesn't want Tony and Bruce to leave him alone right now. The thought makes tears unexpectedly well up in his eyes. He wishes the pain would go away. "Please," he whispers.

"It's OK buddy, it's OK, we're here," Tony says and Steve can see him pointing Bruce at something and then feels Bruce drawing away from him. "Don’t worry."

Rationally he knows Bruce is probably not going anywhere, but losing physical contact with him makes something sprawling and scary unravel in Steve's chest he starts to cry in earnest, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

"It's OK, buddy, it's OK," Tony keeps saying, hugging Steve closer from behind, careful to avoid putting pressure on his lower abdomen. Steve's body still feels heavy and awkward and somehow that only intensifies the urgency in his bladder. His cock is still so hard but at the same time he desperately needs to piss and a part of him wonders if that's even possible. If normal guys can even experience those two sensations at the same time.

"Here you go," Bruce says, moving Steve slightly to the left and adjusting his position. Steve looks down and sees a pale blue bucket in Bruce's hand, an item Steve had occasionally noticed in guest bathrooms at the Tower and had assumed came with the default bathroom kit for each room.

"There you go, buddy," Tony says, hugging Steve even closer as Bruce grabs Steve's cock and aims it so it's halfway inside the bucket. He does it gently but it still requires touching Steve's stomach which makes Steve emit a whimper.

"There you go, Steve, just let it go," Bruce says, using his kindly professor voice, the one Steve imagines he must have used on his students, if he ever got around to teaching before the accident.

Steve wants to, desperately - the pressure in his bladder is _painful_ \- but all he can see is his bloated stomach and weeping erection and he can't imagine being able to piss right now. It tears a sob from his chest, every bit of his face now wet with tears.

"Hey, calm down, calm down," Tony says, drawing Steve closer, turning his head so he's facing Tony. "Shh," he says, wiping the wetness from Steve's cheeks with his thumb. "Breathe," he says, not letting Steve look away. "Just breathe for me."

Steve lets out all the air he's been holding and then draws a big, audible breath. Tony picks up his rhythm. They breathe together, inhale after exhale, and slowly the panicky feeling in Steve's chest subsides and his thinking becomes a little clearer. His bladder is still an uncomfortable knot under his skin.

"OK," Tony says, "let go. Just let go, let it happen."

Steve continues to breathe, not looking away from Tony, and a few seconds later he hears the sound of water hitting a hard surface and realizes it's him, pissing in the bucket, his cock still guided by Bruce's hand. It trickles out of him in droplets at first, and then turns into a hesitant stream. Tony doesn't let go of him until he's done, until the few final drops hit the plastic, and the room is silent except for the sound of their breathing.

"How do you feel?" Tony says, still not looking away from Steve's eyes.

"Better," Steve says.

His head feels clearer, the pain and discomfort of needing to piss is gone, replaced by a rush of endorphins.

Tony lets go of him, letting Steve look down at himself. He sees Bruce, his hands still holding Steve's cock over the bucket, his eyes full of worry. Steve gives him a lazy, open smile. A feeling of bliss is slowly starting to seep into his muscles.

Bruce smiles back at him. "Good to have you back."

"Good to be here," Steve says, unable to wipe the grin from his face. His stomach still feels bloated and full, but the sensation is pleasant and soothing again.

Steve looks down again, over Bruce's hands at the small amount of urine at the bottom of the bucket. He knew he didn't really have to pee.

Bruce laughs, after taking a look at Steve's expression. He puts the bucket away and bends down, grabbing Steve's face with both hands and kissing him passionately, desperately, like he needs Steve to keep breathing.

When he pulls away he's a little out of breath, relief and affection written over his features. He looks over Steve's shoulder, obviously exchanging looks with Tony again.

The two of them roll Steve slowly onto to his back, towering over him on each side. Bruce's hand goes back to Steve's erection, making Steve arch when he grabs the base of Steve's cock and starts stroking. Tony slides a hand over Steve's stomach, caressing in slow circles, pausing to massage Steve's hip bones.

Steve moans and shudders, feeling full and floaty, letting the pleasure build and take him over his senses, waves of increasing intensity traveling from somewhere below his stomach all the way up to his throat.

"Yeah, look at you," Tony says, eyes full of fondness, a look that makes something wet and desperate escape from Steve's chest in the form of a sound. "So pretty," Tony says, staring at Steve's stomach or maybe Bruce's hand jerking him off or maybe Bruce himself, Steve's not sure anymore.

All he knows is that a few seconds later Tony slides his hand down past Steve's cock, down to the spot behind Steve's balls, and then he pushes at that tiny place, pressing down on it like a button, like a pulse, and then Tony grabs Steve's nipple, twisting it as he's twisting his hand around Steve's cock and Steve comes, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open, screams or moans or both escaping from him until he feels warm wetness against his stomach, until he's boneless and powerless, panting on the bathroom floor, the walls spinning around him.

It takes a few minutes before Steve can get up from the floor and make it to the toilet. The fullness in his stomach is starting to feel uncomfortable. Tony and Bruce ask him whether he wants them to stay but he shoo's them away. Tony asks again, to make sure, but Steve assures him he'll manages to survive on his own for a few minutes.

He's still not done catching his breath by the time the door closes behind them.

*

"Ta-da!" Tony says a few weeks later, dragging Steve into one of the labs. Bruce is seated in the corner wearing the white lab coat he usually foregoes, giving Steve a look Steve would classify as mischievous if he didn't know better. 

There's a giant, sheet-covered object in the middle of the room which Tony unveils to reveal… Steve can't think of any other words to describe it except 'monster prototype'.

"It's like a Christmas tree, except with tentacles," Tony supplies helpfully. Bruce tries to smother his laughter.

"The tentacles can be the presents," Tony says, still completely serious. "Metaphorically speaking."

Steve takes a few seconds to let the idea of Tony giving him a tentacle sex machine – Steve has no doubt whatsoever that that's the object's primary function – as a Christmas gift sink in.

"It's very safe," Bruce says, clearly attempting to steer the conversation back in a more productive direction. "We tested it rigorously." And with that Steve's brain stop processing anything that is not images of Tony and Bruce experimenting with mechanical tentacle sex toys for days on end.

"I'm confident you did," Steve says. He tries to count the amount of dildos attached to a single branch. "It looks a little… intimidating."

Bruce nods, clearly having anticipated Steve's objection. "Tony's worked out several routines, they're like training programs on a fitness machine, you just have to go at a certain pace, activating different sections at each time--"

"Great," Steve smiles and heads for the nearest work bench facing the center of the room. "Show me."

Tony and Bruce exchange excited glances.

"With pleasure," Tony says.


End file.
